


Your Wish is My Command

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Awkward Alistair (Dragon Age), Awkward Flirting, Canon Disabled Character, Cheesy, Confessions, F/M, Fade to Black, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Marriage of Convenience, Neck Kissing, Non-Canon Relationship, Post Trespasser, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Alistair and Evelyn Trevelyan find themselves in an arranged marriage. Before either of them were old enough to chose, Maric and Eamon arrange for a marriage between the illegitimate son of the king and the Bann of Ostwick's youngest daughter.  Grieving the loss of his wife, Bann Trevelyan left the details to his matron Aunt. Years later, Arl Teagan finds the ironclad document, and insists both parties honor the decades old contract.





	Your Wish is My Command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts), [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts), [Sassydoilies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassydoilies/gifts).



> All of the ideas for this pairing were sooo good. And I was hit with the desire to write fluffy cheese! I hope you all enjoy this gift. Your prompts were inspiring.

He stopped at her door. The intricately carved wooden barrier served as a stark reminder that theirs was a marriage of convenience. Arl Teagan had dug up some nearly forgotten document drawn up by Maric and Eamon before Isolde forced Eamon to send Alistair to the Chantry. During the Exalted Council, Teagan had approached the Inquisitor, informing her of her obligation. The King of Ferelden, and the former Inquisitor wed within a fortnight. Now, six months had passed. He still thought she disliked him, and the idea of being married to him. She could barely stand his touch. When he held her hand during addresses to the public, a show of solidarity between the monarchs, she shivered with revulsion.

He still recalled with glaring clarity the way she hid her face when he apologized that there would be no children. She’d hurried from the room, her choked response barely hid her disdain of him. Still, he longed to touch her, longed to see her smile. To hear the rich laugh he’d witnessed when her friends visited. He wished she would turn her captivating smile on him in genuine fondness and not simply for show. Her coy comments and gestures caught him off guard more times than he could count. At first he thought she meant them, but the sadness he saw in her eyes told otherwise. He sighed, letting his frustration out before he faced the formidable woman.

Hesitantly, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. The abrupt sound echoed louder than he expected, and he cringed at the resounding clatter down the stone hall. He rocked on his heels counted to ten and resigned himself to return to his own room. He shouldn’t bother her at this hour. She was probably in bed. His cheeks warmed at the thought. Just as he was about to give up, the door opened. The dark haired elf maid, Nalya, he thought was her name, answered.

"Oh, um, yes, is your mistress in? I wished to," he cleared his throat, "that is, if she hasn't retired for the evening I wished to speak with her."

"Please, come in, your majesty." Evelyn rose and gave him a short curtsy when his gaze swept over her.

Waving his hands in front of him he said, "no need for formalities. Please, call me Alistair. I get tired of people fawning and bowing each time I enter the room."

She smiled sweetly. "You're the King of Ferelden, it comes with the crown."

Alistair made a face. "Don't remind me."

The door shut with a click. Her maid left them to discuss in private.

"Oh, I hope I've not interrupted any..." His voice trailed off as his gaze swept over her thin nightgown. A lump rose in his throat as he caught sight of the tanned mounds of her breasts barely contained in the translucent gown. _Retreat!_ The voice in his head screamed. He thumbed behind him. "I should -- Yes, I should just --" He imagined her interest due to his pining. He was clumsy, uncertain; far from romantic. Woo-less Zevran had said.

Evelyn glided forward. "Go?" she whispered.

He nodded dumbly, stared at her lips a moment before shaking his head. She laid a hand on his arm. "You don't need to go."

"I don't?" he asked. "I don't." He tried to sound more certain. "I'd like to stay." He gave her a slight smile and his heart skipped a beat at the flutter of her long lashes. "I thought I imagined your invitation at dinner. I know this isn't what you planned for yourself. The Inquisitor, married to the King of Ferelden. Queen Consort is a title that pales in comparison." He hoped his voice didn’t crack, it often did when he was nervous, and Evelyn made him nervous.

"I was ready to set it all aside." She raised her left arm, the lower half missing at the elbow. "My days of fighting are over. I've saved the world, and now it's time to live in it."

"I'm grateful for all you've done for Ferelden, and for Thedas. I admire you, you know."

Evelyn shook her head. "I didn't exactly have a choice. I'm not sure the cost was worth it." Tears pooled in her eyes. "Is it saved though? Solas isn't going to just give up."

"And we are preparing for that. You aren't alone in this, not anymore." Alistair reached tentatively for her chin, lifting her face to his. "Whatever comes, whatever he plans, we will face it together." She sacrificed far more than anyone, to see to the safety of Ferelden, and to Thedas. Instead of retiring, she was forced into a marriage she didn’t want. "I'd say something witty, but I'm afraid if I open my mouth I'll find it full of foot."

Evelyn giggle behind her hand. "I'm glad you are starting to feel comfortable around me. You should, you know, we are married after all. Your secrets are my secrets."

"Comfortable? Not entirely. I feel like a bumbling idiot, but I'm comforted that you'll keep my secret." No matter what, she had acted the Queen at every turn. She was far more regal than himself.

"What secret is that?" she asked.

"I'm not as smooth as I pretend to be." He gave her a boyish grin.

"You aren't half as dumb as you pretend to be, either." She tilted her head at him.

He chuckled. "Let’s keep that our little secret. Can't have them thinking I'm smarter than they are. If they do I might have to worry about assassins!"

Evelyn shook her head. "Clever, you let them think they have led you to the decision they want, all the while you've given them the very idea."

"I did learn a few things from Leliana and Warden Cousland. If the nobles believe they are making the decisions, they are far less disagreeable when you have something important to tackle."

"Ambassador Montilyet would agree. "

Alistair brushed a thumb over her lower lip. "What of you, dear lady? Yours is the only approval I wish for." His own words surprised him.

"I approve of a great many things, Alistair."

"I want to kiss you. That is, well, I didn't want to assume but I had hoped...." His mouth went dry at the thought of her rejecting him. His thigh twitched in memory of her warm hand touching him at dinner. He’d nearly yelped in surprise, and spent the rest of dinner forcing himself not to squirm in discomfort. Evelyn Trevelyan, no Evelyn Therein, was an an uncomparable beauty. She couldn’t want an oaf like himself.

"I would like that," she whispered.

Her soft confession sent his pulse pounding in his ears. Slowly he leaned in, and he could taste the sweet mint on her tongue as their breath mingled together. She looked at him through thick dark lashes, her dark brown eyes sparkled like rare gems in the firelight. His chest tightened. He should kiss her. She said he could. Her mouth turned down, and her brow furrowed until his lips brushed tenderly over hers. Slow and tentative at first, as he explored the soft sweetness of her mouth. His hands found her waist, seemingly with a mind of their own. He thought of nothing but her lips caressing his in return, and traced his tongue over the seam of them. She opened without hesitation, allowing him to taste more deeply of her sweet mouth. Cool at first, it warmed as her tongue met his, caressing gently, pressing boldly, before retreating, inviting him to follow.

He deepened the kiss, taking a deep breath through his nose to sate the cry for air of his lungs. The scent of her filled his head, and he felt drunk with the want of her. She was a head shorter than him, and her body fit within is arms as if she were meant to be there. The warmth of her pressed against him sent a rush of heat through his body, tightening and building between them. His member strained against his breaches, impatiently seeking the warm body pressed against him.

Evelyn moaned low in her throat, her hips rocked gently against him and he pulled her closer, pressing a thigh between hers. She was so warm, so close, but he wanted more. He longed to traced the curves of her flesh, feel the silk of it under his fingertips. Ached to feel the weight of those lush orbs, barely contained behind lace and silk. Her golden tan skin beckoned him, begged to be touched, tasted, kissed.

He broke their kiss, drug a deep breath into his lungs, filling himself with the heady scent of her. Soft floral and vanilla; she smelled of the garden after a gentle rain.

“Maker’s Breath. You are a beautiful woman, and I am a very lucky man.” His whispered against her ear. She shivered; a hum sounding low in her throat.

His hands caressed along her side. The warmth of her bled through the thin fabric as he kneading his fingers over firm muscles and soft curves. A soft moan of pleasure encouraged him to seek the ties on her gown. She gripped the back of his neck, leaning against him.

“I was beginning to think I needed to find you in your study wearing naught under my cloak, and disrobe. Or hit you over the head.” He wished she would have. As shocked as he would be, knowing she desired him as much as he desired her brought him new life. She chuckled at the nip he placed on her throat.

“And damage my regal personage?” He gave a mock gasp. “Forgive me, for being so dense. I thought the coy flirting was for show. A beautiful woman such as yourself deserves better than the bastard king. Owe! Did you just pinch me?” He rubbed his shoulder. His member twitched at the flash of anger in her eyes.

“I’ll do more than that if you continue to say such things. A person's worth isn’t determined by their birth. You have earned the right to be Ferelden’s king, legitimate son or not!”

His gave her a cheeky grin to smooth her ire. “Yes, I am a lucky man, indeed.”

He leaned in and kissed her. A possessive and passionate claim of her mouth with his. She filled his senses. He would die a happy man if he died tonight. Her kiss was the only kiss he longed for. He nipped along her jaw, to find a sensitive lobe.

Evelyn ran her hand along his neck to the clasp at his throat. She fumbled with the hook, biting her lower lip in frustration. Alistair waited, he wasn’t so impatient that he would take this from her unless she asked. His own fingers longed to push aside her gown and grip the rounded flesh teasing just under her chin. He decided to do just that. While she found her way through his clasps, his hand raised along her ribs to hold the swell of a breast in his palm. She tried again, irritation flared in her eyes as the clasp slipped free of her fingers. Determination set her jaw. Alistair placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Encouraging her without words.

The first clasp came free and she moved to the next. His tongue traced her ear, her moan sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He trembled under her hand as she slid open the tunic, and traced her fingers over the faint scarring she found there. Alistair sighed as she explored the contours of his chest. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Eve?” His thumb brushed away the tear, his eyes searched her face. Had she changed her mind? He could stop, no, for her he would stop. He would be content with the kiss she gifted him.

She let out a breath and shook her head. “Tis joyful tears, nothing more. Take me to bed, husband of mine.” A joyful shriek left her mouth as he scooped her up and carried her across the room.

“Your wish is my command.”


End file.
